Summoning a Mouse
by crimson-sage
Summary: A Naruto Harry Potter crossover. Fainting forward, he was the only one in the class who didn’t see the shivering pink haired girl appear in the middle of the room, naked except for rivulets of her own blood which dripped slowly onto the stone tiles.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Naruto and Harry Potter characters are not mine… etc. etc.

Hi all! Thanks for reading! Yesterday, sitting once again in front of my computer, struggling to put those stories onto paper that just seemed so clear in my head and yet were so hard to put into words, I came to the realization – this isn't working. I took a short break and thought to myself… why not, for a change, try something _fun_? And not care how silly it is, or how ridiculous the premise? So I did, and that's how I ended up with a Naruto Harry Potter crossover. (Though, as a warning, _fun_ doesn't necessarily mean _happy_). It started with a short daydream, a "what if…" in my head, and turned into something more. So here it is! The first chapter. Please help me out with feedback. Feel free to give me comments, criticism, or any advice you would like. Thanks so much!

Chapter 1

"_Eripio servo_. Come on, come on… _eripio servo_!… oh bloody hell, you stupid animal… just come here!"

Freckled-face scrunched up and covered with sweat, Ron clenched his hands around his wand as he tried to summon the mouse Harry was holding only a few feet away. With a puff, a small cloud of smoke appeared around the mouse, only to clear away to reveal the mouse in the same exact place… only now bright pink. "Oh forget it!" He finally threw down his wand in frustration, where it hit his desk with a resounding clack. "Blimey Harry. I might as well just admit it. I'm never going to be able to summon the stupid rat." He sighed.

A very familiar, know-it-all voice piped up from a few desks down. "First of all, Ron, it's a _mouse_, not a rat. Second, we are not _summoning_ the mouse, as we would with a normal summoning, but instead performing a rescue spell, a much higher level spell…"

Already frustrated, Ron felt his annoyance levels rise even further and cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Yeah yeah, same thing. Honestly Hermione, you should really stop learning so many silly details, and save that brain space for something else."

Hermione stood up in a huff. "_Honestly_ Ronald," she snapped mimicking him, "those _silly_ details make all the difference." She marched over to their desk, bushy-hair bouncing with each step.

"Now you've done it," Harry whispered with amusement. Ron grimaced, and then yelped as his girlfriend whacked him not-so-lightly on the nose with his wand. "Blimey! You've turned into a mini-McGonagall!"

Pushing back her hair with an exasperated sigh, Hermione looked down at her two best friends. "Look you two, do you want to learn how to do this spell, or not?"

Before Ron could open his mouth and most likely stick his foot into it, again, Harry quickly cut in. "Yes, we would. Thanks, Hermione."

"Okay." She plopped down into a chair next to them, and sat up straight in what both boys recognized through long-experience as Hermione's patented lecture mode. "As I was saying, this is a rescue spell, not a summoning charm. In a rescue spell, the wizard is sending out a query to a living being, asking if it needs help. If the being answers in the affirmative, then it is pulled to the wizard, and to safety. This is a two-step process, far more complicated then a simple summoning charm, where the wizard imposes his will upon an object, either animate or inanimate, and commands it to come to him through the force of his magic."

Pausing briefly in her monologue, Hermione looked over at her audience to see if they had any questions (and to see if they were still awake). Harry raised his hand tentatively. Ron just looked bored and slightly confused.

"Um, Hermione… the rescue spell just seems like an extra-complicated way to summon someone who needs help. I mean, wouldn't a summoning charm do the same thing?"

Hermione beamed. "Excellent question Harry!"

Ron snorted, and nudged him. "McGonagall, I'm telling you!" he whispered.

"…not the same thing at all," Hermione was saying. "The rescue charm actually uses the magic from both the caster and the life force of the living thing being helped. If the being in distress is a witch or wizard, then the spell is even more powerful, as it has access to at least double the normal amount of magic power. In situations of extreme distress, both people may voluntarily choose to give up more magic or life force than a spell normally requires, up to the max that they have to give. This gives the spell the special ability to summon people over significantly longer distances than would be normally possible. Of course, this also makes the spell rather dangerous, as the life force of both the summoned and the summoner can be drained…"

Ron, perking up from his semi-slumber at the word danger, finally decided enough was enough. "Alright, Hermione, thanks. That was…uh… really helpful. Now let's have Harry give it a go, eh?" So saying, he deftly lifted the mouse out of Harry's lap, and settled it in his. "Okay," he snickered a bit, "ask Mr. Pinky if he wants help, mate!"

Harry concentrated, trying to project his thoughts into the mouse's head, and feeling rather ridiculous. _Eripio servo!_ _Do you… uh.. do you need help? Mouse?_ _Eripio servo!_

With a sigh, he sat back and took a break. Not only did this spell remind him strongly of Legimancy, which thanks to Snape he already knew he was horrible at, but he didn't think that the mouse would want his help, even if he did do the spell correctly. He eyed the mouse ruefully. Nestled comfortably amongst Ron's robes, it nibbled happily on a few crumbs Ron had tossed it. It would probably start _complaining_ if he managed to summon it.

Frowning, Hermione saw Harry's dilemma. "Hm. That won't do. Here." With a flick of her wrist and a muttered spell, she transformed Ron's water glass into a lidless glass box. Then she reached down, she fumbled a bit with her shoe, and pulled out her shoelace, which she tossed into the box. Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry, and got a silent shrug of the shoulders in return.

"Um, Hermione," began Harry slowly, when she deftly turned the shoelace into snake. Ron jumped in surprise, and Harry backed his chair up a few feet.

"Here, Ron, pass me the mouse." Wordlessly, Ron handed it over, and both boys watched, mouths slightly open, as their normally gentle-hearted friend mercilessly proceeded to dangle the mouse above the aquarium. The snake, sensing lunch, lifted its head up and hissed, while the mouse flailed wildly about in abject panic. "There, that should do it," Hermione said, satisfaction lacing her voice. "Okay then. Harry, try the rescue spell now!"

Harry found himself identifying with the poor struggling mouse. The situation seemed a metaphor for his life, really – a big bad snake man was out to get him, and he, the supposed chosen one, felt all too often like specially chosen snake food. "It's okay, little one, I'll save you," he muttered, and concentrated hard. Okay. Must save pink mouse from evil shoelace snake. Right. _Eripio servo._ _Save… pink…from snake_. _Eripio servo!_

A bead of sweat ran down his brow. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Ron's voice faintly telling him to give it up. He gripped his wand tighter, and gritted his teeth. As much as they made fun of Hermione, she had a point. War was coming up fast, and knowledge of their studies could make a crucial difference on the battle field. This spell, for instance, had the potential to be really useful when allies needed rescue. Or friends.

At that thought, he stepped up his effort. He could do it. He _could_.

_Eripio servo!__Save…pink…from snake!_ _Eripio servo!_ Stretching out his awareness, he suddenly felt a light prickle on the edge of his consciousness. Was that… the mouse? A surge of triumph ran through him, and he focused harder, trying to zero-in on the faint feeling of contact. The prickle grew stronger, and, gasping slightly from the effort, he extended a mental probe towards the other mind.

_Do you need help?_

Harry frowned in confusion. Something wasn't right. His query had been bounced back, before ever reaching the mouse's mind. Hands shaking slightly, he ignored Hermione's voice, which now sounded alarmed, and with a supreme surge of energy he _pushed_ against the barrier which stood in his way. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, and Harry decided that if this was the amount of effort it took to rescue one small rodent from two feet away, then it was no wonder he had never heard of the spell before. You would have to be, well, _Dumbledore_ in order to rescue anyone.

However, though the spell might be worthless in the future, he certainly wasn't going to stop now. He had come too far to go back, and he was almost through, he could _feel_ it. Suddenly, with one final push that left sweat stinging in his eyes, he was through, and the barrier dissolved as though it had never been there to begin with.

_Ow_. A wave of foreign, raw emotion washed over him, the agony and fear so strong that he felt abruptly winded, as though he had been punched in the gut.

The strength of the other's emotions pulled him unwillingly into the other mind.

_He was running. His harsh, labored breaths seemed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent forest, and he ran desperately, knowing the sound would draw his pursuers. A ragged cough forced itself up from his throat and, unable to stop himself, he fell to his knees, his naked body jerking helplessly as the blood and froth forced its way out of his lungs. It was, he realized helplessly, going to have to come out. His fingers slipped twice on the blood covering the hilt before he was able to get a firm grasp on the dagger sticking out of his side. Trying not to think about what he was about to do, he took a deep breath and yanked. Blinding pain shot up his side, and he found himself laying facedown on the ground, black spots dancing before his vision. The dagger was still embedded in his body, only a few inches further out than before._

_A twig snapped somewhere behind him, and terror shot through him to the point of nausea. They were coming. Oh Kami-sama, they were coming. He tried to scramble to his feet, only to have his legs fail him. His fingers, several missing fingernails, dug into the dirt as his back arched in another spasm. He couldn't move. He was going to get caught. Pure horror set in, and he began to sob desperately. Someone help me, he pleaded in despair, though he knew there was no one to hear. Please, someone help me! _

Harry pulled himself out of the other mind with a gasp. He felt numb from shock. _Bloody hell!_ That had to be the most horrifying thing he had ever witnessed. My God. That person… that person was being chased, no, hunted… like an animal. His stomach twisted, and he fought the urge to throw up. He didn't know what was going on – that was certainly not his mouse – but it didn't matter. Hermione might complain that he had a saving-people-thing, but nobody with a shred of human decency would abandon a person to _that_.

Steeling himself, he pushed back towards the other person's mind, though this time he didn't go completely into it. The other's swirling emotions surged around him, though their force was muted . Extending a mental probe, he tried to reach past the cloud of pain and terror that currently blanketed the person's mind.

_Do you need help?_

Sudden silence. The pain and fear remained, but the blind panic that had filled the person moments before was suddenly replaced by puzzlement. Something that was obviously a query floated into his mind, though he did not recognize the words. He cursed mentally. _Dammit. We speak different languages._

Harry felt the small thrill of his own panic. Time was obviously running out for the person on the other side of the spell, and he had no idea how to get them out of there. Calm down, he told himself. Think logically.

What did he know? Though the language barrier prevented him from outright asking the other person if they wanted help, there must be another way to get his consent. After all, in class they were supposed to 'rescue' the mouse, and the mouse certainly couldn't speak English. However, it couldn't be as simple as the other person just wanting help, since he had heard the other's desperate pleas for help when inside of his head, and nothing had happened.

Harry mentally scrambled to put the bits of what he knew together, and wished Ron was here instead of him. As a chess master, he would be able to put all the little pieces together, and come up with a winning game plan. Or, even better, he should swap places with Hermione. She would know what to do – hell, she probably knew what book and page number the answer was on, too. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he saw Snape sneering in disgust. _Think boy, think. Use that thick skull of yours!_ Shape's voice grew ugly. _Seems the little idiot's empty between the ears after all. Not a great surprise, considering he's a Potter._

A whimper of pain from the other mind brought Harry back from his panicked musings, and he tried to think clearly. Okay. Let's see. He had to get the other's consent, but he couldn't use words to do so. No wait. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

Turning back towards the other mind, he gently spun out feelings of help, of warmth and security. He offered a safe haven and freedom from pain, and he could feel the yearning in the other's mind. A overpowering _need_ for what he offered rushed throughout the other's mind, swelling up to meet his own thoughts. As the two sets of emotions met and merged, Harry felt a thin bond, like a cord, link their two minds. Experimentally, he tugged. The other mind shifted a bit, and moaned from the pain.

Wincing in sympathy, but knowing it had to be done, Harry grabbed the cord with all of his remaining mental might and pulled. He pulled until the veins stood out on his forehead and his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl, and bright dots danced before his vision. Finally, he heard a sharp 'pop' and the cord disappeared. As he fainted forward onto his desk, Harry hoped vaguely that the sound had been that of someone appearing in the classroom, and not that of the cord snapping. Or of something in his mind breaking.

He was the only one in the class who didn't see the shivering pink-haired girl appear in the middle of the room, naked except for the rivulets of her own blood which dripped slowly onto the stone tiles.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: A few people were wondering why this was in the Sakura-Kakashi section. I had put it there because Kakashi was going to be the other main character, only second to Sakura. However, for now I've removed the story from that listing, since putting it there seems to imply that those two will end up romantically involved. Not that I'm saying they won't, of course :). But it's really too early in the story to tell.

Also, to prevent confusion, I'll quickly say a few words about when this is set. In the Naruto universe, it's gone AU after the time lapse. Just pretend Sasuke is still running around with Orochimaru (as far as I know, he might be… I haven't gotten past the Kakashi-gaiden in the manga). In the Harry Potter universe, this is set in the Golden trio's 6th year. The basic underlying facts still hold true (Voldemort made horcruxes, Draco is feverishly trying to kill Dumbledore, etc.) However, this doesn't mean the year will end up the same. After all… a random ninja just appeared in the middle of Hogwarts. Who knows how this will change things! (I certainly don't.) :)

Enough blathering by me. Here we go!

Chapter 2

With a whirl and a thud, Sakura landed on something hard. Her weak and injured body was unable to withstand the impact and she went sprawling, knocking her chin sharply against the hard dirt and jarring the dagger lodged in her side. Briefly her vision went white, as a flash of heart-stopping agony shot through her, and for a few moments she could only lie, helpless, on the ground and wheeze.

It was finally a muffled thud and angry squeal that caused her to look up, and that was when she realized she was laying on stone, not dirt, and that the forest she had so recently been fleeing through had been replaced by this room. Full of people. Strange-looking people. _Enemies_.

Fear of being captured again finally kicked-started what little energy she had left, and her adrenalin levels abruptly spiked. She tried to pull herself to her feet, and felt a burst of sour triumph when she got to her knees, instead. _Well, better than before_.

Her motion seemed to have jolted the crowd out of their stunned silence, and suddenly the room was full of the yells and jabberings of a foreign tongue. Hands gestured and waved excitedly, and she noticed that many of the people were holding out thin little sticks, their ends pointed towards her. She had little time to puzzle over this oddity, or to wonder how she ended up here, because at that moment one of the foreigners, a little wizened old man with tufts for eyebrows, stepped cautiously towards her.

Sakura's defenses went on high alert. She growled low in her throat, and tried to scoot back. She should have known better than to move, she reflected ruefully. A cough worked its way up out of her body, spewing blood all over the ground. Froth lingered at her lips, and through the pain Sakura bared her teeth and hoped she looked rabid. The more dangerous she looked, the better. Maybe if she acted crazy enough, they would stay away long enough for whatever forces brought her here to take her away.

The little man gave a squeak and hastily stepped back. The hum of the foreigners' conversations had died down, and now most were just staring and whispering. Many looked scared. Frowning, the little man looked at her injuries, and, with a look of deep concentration, waved his stick and muttered some words. Sakura felt the familiar buzz of chakra flow over her, and panicked. _A jutsu! He hit me with a jutsu!_ _With… with a stick!_ Despair overwhelmed her as she waited for whatever the jutsu does to take effect. And waited. And blinked in surprise when instead of dying, or losing a limb, she actually felt… better. Much better, in fact.

She started up at the man, astonished. Had he… helped her? Tentatively, she reached deep into the reserves of her almost completely drained chakra supply, and sent a faint buzz of chakra through her body. Her eyes widened at the results of her test. The man's jutsu hadn't healed her body, but it had blocked off a lot of the pain, and had restored a large part of her energy supply. Also, her bleeding had significantly slowed. She felt as though she'd been hit with a blood-clotting jutsu, five doses of painkillers and caffeine at once. Hesitantly, the man gave her a smile, and it was enough to shock her out of immobility. Enough, Sakura, she told herself. Now is not the time to wonder why. Now is the time to take advantage of this unexpected gift and RUN!

Biting her lip against the pain, she pushed herself to her feet, and half-tottered in place. Good, she noted. At her unexpected movement, half the room had taken a step back, not forward. It was a sign that they weren't trained fighters, though that would have been obvious anyway from their patent lack of weapons and their jerky movements which so blatantly lacked the shinobi's grace. In the guise of checking a wound on her stomach, she eyed the path to the door. Clear. With a suddenness that left the room gaping, she darted out the door.

Sakura's vision spun wildly, and she clutched a nearby suit of armor for support. The little man's jutsu hadn't helped as much as she hoped, though considering she was unable to stand without it, it had probably saved her life. Grimly, Sakura coughed up a bit of blood, and stared down at her wounds. The dagger was still stuck in her side, and she knew from past experience the futility of trying to pull it out. The deep gash across her stomach was weeping blood and some other less recognizable grey-yellow ooze that mingled with the blood to form a slimy pink paste. She didn't have the chakra to do more than a superficial medical assessment, but any shinobi would know that yellow-ooze was a bad sign – something was seriously wrong with her insides. Sakura tried to look over the rest of her body for more serious injuries – logically, she knew there had to be more – but it was getting harder and harder to breathe, and the pink haze before her eyes was getting thicker. She found, not to her surprise, that she didn't want to know if she had more wounds. Knowing would simply make it that much harder to fight down her rising panic.

Panic engulfed her anyway. This couldn't be the end. Surely shinobis had gotten out of worse situations than this. She tried to will herself to believe it. Sakura grabbed at the thought of her favorite sensei, gaining comfort, no matter how illogically, from thinking about him. Surely _Kakashi-sensei_, on one of those crazy ANBU missions no one talks about, had to have ended up worse than this. He's just too irresponsible not to. He probably got wounded because he was at a good part of Icha-Icha and didn't want to move to dodge. Involuntarily, she snorted a little, and irrationally felt a little better. It gave her the strength needed to plan her next move.

Letting go of the armor, Sakura shakily peered around the corner. She had taken refuge in one of the little side corridors off of the main halfway only shortly after leaving the room. It was a wise choice. Though the foreigners were briefly shocked by her sudden departure, the surprise wore off and twenty pairs of feet shortly went thundering down the corridor after her. She had hid in this small niche until they passed, and had silently given thanks, again, that none of the strangers were shinobi. Tracking her in her current state would have been easy for a _genin_.

Now, somehow she had to make her way out of this monstrously large, maze-like building, and figure out where she was. Perhaps she could find allies, or at the least some helpful civilian who could get her medical attention and not report her to the foreign authorities. Yeah, right. If she was being realistic, she knew, all she should really hope for was a quiet place to bleed to death. A wave of yearning swept over her and Sakura paused as she suddenly realized that she wanted to _live_. Passionately. Though most likely it was already too late for that.

Swinging out of the niche, Sakura staggered down the hallway, doing her best to stay in the shadows. One hallway eventually met another, and the corridors twisted and turned in ways she was sure was unnatural and left her half-convinced was due to genjutsu. Every so often she would pass a closed door with murmured voices inside, and reminded of the many desks in the room, and the many young foreigners, she wondered if she was at an academy. No matter. Pushing the thought aside she focused on placing one foot in front of the other and on trying, desperately, not to give one of her wet hacking coughs or succumb to the dizzying red haze that swam before her eyes. For lack of better direction, she tried to always pick the larger hallway. Though this strategy would most likely lead her to people, hopefully it would also lead her to an exit. So far, there had been no exists, or even breakable windows, along the smaller side corridors.

Remarkably, so far she hadn't seen a single person. Silently, she was congratulating herself on her luck when suddenly a white blob appeared in the hallway ahead of her. She flattened herself back against the wall and squinted at it, trying to focus. As it came closer, she realized that it was a man – a completely transparent man, who was _floating_ above the ground. Horror overwhelmed her. She had been through hell and back that day, but so far, nothing frightened her so completely as this. This was it. Proof of her inevitable death. It was her fate, to die here in this foreign land, away from family and friends, away from her beloved Konoha. The spirit was coming to take her away.

Anger roiled within her. Like all ninja, she had accepted death as an inevitable part of her calling. Yet, when it was finally here, literally staring her in the face, part of her rebelled and prevented her from passively accepting her fate. Sakura felt something deep inside her, that had been slowly breaking all day, finally snap. A snarl tore from her throat, though it was more of a sob than a growl. Raising her hand, she pushed her blood-soaked pink hair away from her face, and looked the coming ghost straight in the eye. Noticing its startled expression, she gave a dark, pain-filled grin.

"Damn you," she whispered softly to it. "Damn you, spirit. If you want me, you're going to have to come get me. I may not be the strongest or best or nicest shinobi, but I'm a shinobi of the leaf, and we don't lay down for anyone, not even for death."

Her thoughts swam. She thought of Naruto, slit-eyed and whiskered, his grin growing wider and his fighting fiercer the more he bled. She thought of the Sasuke of their early genin days, who in his Uchiha pride would die before he would yield. Finally, she thought of Kakashi-sensei, who despite his perpetual tardiness and Icha-Icha addiction, would protect her and their team until the end of the world.

She smiled savagely, looking half-crazed, a naked madwoman with blood-matted hair, a knife in the side, and an almost feverish light in her eyes as she thought of her teammates. "We fight until the end."

With a yell, she rushed the spirit, using up the strength she had been so desperately conserving in one last charge. The astonished ghost was left with too little time to dodge, and she passed through him, continuing her desperate sprint down the corridor. With her shout, she knew, the secret was out, and the time for stealth was over. She headed down the large hallway, heading now for the most populated place she could find. Perhaps, perhaps, she would be able to find an exit before her enemies surrounded her and she was overwhelmed. Perhaps she wouldn't. Anyway, if she was going to die, at least she would go down knowing that she had gone up against a spirit and defeated it – that she had not given in easily to death.

The strain the running put on her fluid-filled lungs left her choking and spitting up blood, giving her the horrifying sensation that she was drowning in air. The dagger dug into her further with every step, and she had the sickening suspicion that if she looked down, she'd be able to see the inside of her stomach. Either the little man's jutsu was wearing off or her injuries, all fatal, were simply catching up to her. Whatever the case, she wouldn't be able to last much longer.

Staggering down the hallway, she passed a pair of young strangers, who gaped and whispered, and went running off down the hall. She no longer cared. A thin, rat-faced man wearing a rather worn set of furs likewise gaped, and then started barking at her in the ugly foreign tongue. She stumbled past him. Finally she came to a giant set of double-doors, the biggest doors she'd ever since in her life. These, if any, must lead to the outside. She leaned against them feebly, using her body weight to push. One swung open, and she fell inside, landing on her knees.

Slowly she looked up. Not outside, no. Instead, she was in a gigantic hall, bigger than the academy, the Hokage's headquarters, and the genin training fields combined. The ceiling arched into the sky, though she couldn't tell if that was real or just a really good genjutsu. Strangers, no, students, she finally admitted, sat scattered amongst tables throughout the room, studying during what was probably a break between classes. Her entrance had interrupted them. Like all the other foreigners, they stood staring, their papers and books laying forgotten on the tables in front of them.

Towards the front of the hall, three adults, most likely teachers, stood staring as well. She had obviously disrupted their conversation, and given that one of the teachers was the little man from before, she figured it was likely she had been the topic. She would have grinned sourly at the irony of ending up with the same man she had started running from, but was in too much pain to find it funny, or to really find anything amusing at all. Because oh… oh Kami-sama _it hurt_, and she just wanted it to _stop_, please, make it _stop_.

A spasm of pain wracked through her body, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold these coughs in, not this time. Curling up, she lay on her right side as her chest shook and lungs gurgled, and she choked and hacked and coughed up bloody froth and knew she was going to die. Nevertheless, when she heard the shouts of alarm from across the room and saw the three pairs of booted feet come hurrying across the floor, she made a last-ditch attempt to defend herself with the only weapon she had. Weakly she wrapped her right hand around the dagger's hilt, gently closed her left hand over the right, and waited. Finally, there was a brief lull between coughing fits, and she closed her eyes and _tugged_. The dagger slid out an inch before the pain closed over her, and she knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Please, if you have any ideas for what should happen in the future, tell me in a review! I'm currently brainstorming, trying to create an outline for what happens long-term, and would absolutely love to hear your input! And a gigantic thank you goes out to everyone who has reviewed so far:)

Also, I've written Madam Pomphrey here as rather plump and motherish-looking, as I've always pictured her that way. I skimmed through the books, trying to see if there was a description different from mine. There probably was, but I couldn't find one. So I kept it as is.

Chapter 3

The first thing she heard, as she slowly drifted back to consciousness, was the muted sound of murmuring voices. Stupid Naruto, she grumbled grouchily to herself. Stupid Naruto and his loud voice and disgusting morning perkiness. Hopefully Kakashi-sensei, who was definitely _not_ a morning person, would soon roll over and sleepily slap him on the head to shut him up. She eagerly waited for the familiar 'smack' and surprised yelp, and when the voices didn't go away but actually got _louder_, she groaned inwardly and focused on them a bit more.

That's when she realized they weren't speaking her language. And that her entire body ached and hurt as though she had looked into Itachi's Sharingan.

Surprise and pain quickly cleared her mind of morning fuzziness, and events came back to her in a rush. Escape. Running. Falling. Wishing desperately that someone, somewhere, would save her… and reaching for feelings of warmth and security that suddenly appeared before her, hovering tantalizingly out of her reach. Then… blinding, dizzying pain and the strange sense of her soul being pulled… and then the room full of strange foreigners. More running. The spirit! Running… and doors… and then… she strained her mind back, trying to recall what happened next. All she remembered was pain. White hot pain, and herself choking, gasping for breathe as she clawed her throat and drowned, drowned in the air and all she could see was pink and black and…

Anxiously, Sakura tried to calm her racing heart, and kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep. She had been captured, then, taken prisoner by those three teachers she saw racing towards her. Surprisingly, she wasn't dead, which meant that someone must have put a lot of effort into healing her. A thrill of panic ran through her, and she strove to keep her limbs from shaking. Oh Kami-sama. Captured _again_. Why? Why _her_? She wasn't sure whether she could last through a second round of torture and interrogation. Truthfully, she had absolutely no idea how she had lasted through the first. Every time they came towards her, when she looked into their gleaming, hungry eyes and saw herself writhing in pain, she was sure that this time, she wouldn't be able to hold out – this time, she would break. But as they held her down and slowly pulled out her fingernails and the blood poured down and she screamed, a little voice buried deep down inside whispered to her. _Just this time. You can make it through this time. Next time they come, then you can talk_. And when they bent her arm backwards, breaking it at the elbow and then… her gorge rose, just remembering… held it and slowly _twisted it around_ in lazy circles, the little voice returned and said _Just one time more_. And somehow, crazily enough, one step at a time she had made it through the endless days, without spilling and betraying her teammates or village.

But here she was again. Helpless in the hands of enemies. A wave of hopelessness swept over her, and for a few moments she simply lay where she was, exhausted and lifeless, not ready to face what she knew would be coming. Struggling hard, she fought down an intense urge to cry, though tears still beaded at the corners of her eyes. It was all she could do not to break down and weep, bawling for her sensei, her team, her parents. She was tired of trying to be strong. _I just want to go home_.

Thinking of what she'd seen so far of these people, she felt a brief ray of hope. The little man had helped her with his jutsu, hadn't he? And though everyone had stared and looked astonished, no one had openly attacked her. Maybe, maybe these people were not her enemies.

She allowed herself a few brief moments to bask in the sudden surge of hope, before she ruthlessly crushed the thought. Yeah, right, Sakura, she told herself. Any nation that is not one of our allies is, by default, our enemy. And you are a foreign shinobi who just appeared, never mind how, in the middle of their territory. In the middle of an academy, no less, where they keep their _children_. Face it. You're screwed.

Suddenly, she heard the soft tap of footfalls, and the voices came closer. Something rustled. Muted thuds and slams could be heard, and the clink of glass on glass and glass on metal. Sakura's whole body tensed, her fingers digging into the cloth at her sides. It sounded as though someone was rummaging through drawers, looking for something. Involuntarily, her mind flashed to instruments that had been used on her before, and she went cold all over. You're just panicking, she tried to tell herself. They probably won't start with that yet. First, they'll just try asking you outright. Maybe give you a little food and kindness. See if you're lulled in by the false sense of security.

But she still couldn't help her fear when she felt someone move to stand next to the bed, and then reach towards her. Against her will, her pale hand shot up and tightly grasped a plump wrist, and her eyes snapped open. She heard a gasp.

A short, chubby woman stood over her, wearing a long white robe and a white paper hat. Sakura recognized the uniform. A medic. The woman's plump little lips were parted in surprise, and her eyes were round. Obviously, she had not expected her patient to be awake. Behind the medic stood a tall, gaunt man in a long black robe, with shoulder-length, stringy black hair. His back was to Sakura, and he stood staring at a collection of liquids in glass jars along a shelf. Most likely, these two were the source of the conversation she had heard earlier.

Briefly, she glanced around. She was inside, in a small white room with multiple cots and chairs scattered throughout. It was an infirmary – she had worked in one long enough to know. She herself was laying on a cot, covered with a thin white hospital gown and sheet. The only other person in the room was a pale boy about her age with messy brown hair. He lay on a cot with his eyes closed, apparently unconscious. Next to him, the door stood wide open. Huh. Apparently they didn't think she was much of a threat. Not that she could fault them. In her state, it would be surprising if she could stand up, much less make an escape attempt. She might as well be locked in a cell.

She felt a tug on her hand, and warily snapped her gaze back to the medic. There was no point in antagonizing her captors, and so Sakura let the woman's hand go. Staring at her, the woman said something foreign that was obviously meant to be soothing. Sakura returned the gaze, but said nothing. The woman looked annoyed. Voice rising, she repeated herself, the edge on the words getting sharper. Still Sakura kept her silence. No shinobi would give anything away this early in the game, and besides, it was doubtful the woman would understand her even if she did speak.

Unexpectedly, the medic's expression shifted to one of concern. Twisting her head, she called out to the man, who turned around and scowled. He glared at the medic, obviously unhappy with the interruption, but walked over to stand next to her anyway. Dark, piercing eyes latched onto her own, and despite herself, Sakura began to shake under the force of his gaze. She couldn't help it. The man radiated menace. His hard, cold eyes stared out of a pinched, sallow, and evil-looking face. Though his thin, almost skeletal body lacked a shinobi's lean build, Sakura knew, with a fellow soldier's intuition, that this man had killed. Cruelty twisted his lips and lurked in the shadows under his eyes.

Her shaking intensified. She had seen faces like this before. Oh, yes. Involuntarily, her mind pulled up and put before her eyes the faces… the face… she least wanted to see. _His_ face. Cold sweat ran down her back, and she began to hyperventilate. _His_ face gazed at her, lips opened in mocking laughter, her blood spattered across one cheek. Dark eyes shone with a sadistic madness, and she watched, riveted in horror, as he lifted up to his nose his blood-covered knife and slowly inhaled the scent of her blood. A pink tongue darted out and caught a falling droplet, and he smiled contentedly in satisfaction. _You taste so good, my dear._

The memory faded, and she stared up with horror at the pair of dark eyes, so similar to _his_, that gleamed in front of her. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration, and he took a step towards her. Fear finally overwhelmed her, and she snapped. _Not_ _again! No No No No!_ Screaming, she pushed away from him, falling off the opposite side of the bed and hitting the cold tile with a thud. Agony ripped through her, but it paled besides the force of her terror. Fingers scrabbling against the cold tile, she pulled herself to her knees and half-crawled, half-dragged herself to the other side of the room. Sobbing when the wall blocked her escape, she curled into a ball and hid her face. And, crying and whimpering, waited for him to come get her.

And waited. And waited. The infirmary was dead silent, except for the sound of her weeping. No footfalls of people coming to hurt her. No mocking laughter. No noises _at all._ Carefully, she lifted up her head, and peered blearily towards the two foreigners. They hadn't moved. The man's jaw hung open, and he simply stood gaping at her, shocked into silence. The woman was wearing the same look of surprise she had on before, plump lips parted and small eyes round. Something soft rustled to her right, and Sakura jerked her head around. The messy-haired boy was sitting up in bed, a pair of glasses now sitting askew across his nose, blinking owlishly before catching sight of her. He froze, and they both stared at each other.

Slowly, Sakura stopped her sniveling. This whole situation just felt… wrong. All three were clearly astonished by her fear. The man, in particular, looked absolutely astounded that she had run away from him. She was confused. What did they expect from a captured enemy? Bit by bit, she worked her mind around the problem. As impossible as it seemed, it appeared that they might not regard her as an enemy after all. She began to reconsider her earlier assumptions. Perhaps, despite being foreigners, these people were… friendly? The thought was utterly bizarre. Who was crazy enough to be friendly to a foreign shinobi? You might as well just open the gates and invite in the other country's armed forces. Unless… understanding suddenly flooded through her. She had arrived here naked, without her hitate or distinctive clothes. They didn't know she was a shinobi! Profound relief washed over her. Maybe, _maybe_, she could pretend to be a lost civilian, who had simply been beaten and robbed. Maybe they would let her go, and she could finally _go home_.

Well, if she was going to try to pull this off, then there was no better time to start acting. Step one. Stop acting like an enemy shinobi scared of torture. You are just a harmless lost civilian, who has no reason to be afraid. Right. Shakily, she took a deep breathe, and climbed to her feet. Or tried to. Pain shot through her lungs and abdomen, and she found herself falling to her knees. Glancing down, she noticed blood seeping through her thin hospital gown. Her wounds must have reopened during the fall and subsequent scramble.

Looking alarmed, the two adults hurried forwards, calling out in their strange language. Despite her new resolve, she couldn't fully hide her aversion to the evil-faced man. His eyes met hers, and she flinched back as far as she could go, until her back lay flat against the wall. Both foreigners stopped in place, less than three feet from her. This time, the man didn't looked surprised. Instead, he just looked annoyed and a little bit hurt, his lips turned down in a self-loathing grimace. Maintaining eye contact, he spoke softly, like he was soothing an injured wild animal. His long fingers clenched and unclenched nervously, and she could tell that he was intentionally trying to tune down his normal intensity.

Suddenly, the boy spoke up. From the way the two adults jumped, it was clear she was not the only one who had forgotten about him. He said something to the man that stopped the man mid-sentence, before sliding out of his bed and walking over to her. His movements were slow and deliberate, and he kept his hands out in front, always in Sakura's plain sight. She eyed him carefully. He didn't look like much of a threat. Short, messy hair flopped over a pale, skinny face. Green eyes peered out worriedly through the flat planes of his glasses, and radiated nothing more sinister than concern. Cautiously, she glanced around. If he had a jutsu-causing stick, it was nowhere in sight.

Stopping a few feet in front of her, he crouched down and offered his hand. Lost, harmless civilian. Right. Hesitantly, she reached out and gently placed her slim hand in his. Green eyes widened a bit, and a shy but genuine smile broke out over his face. She smiled back timidly in return, and unhappily waited for him to pull her to her feet. Standing up was going to be extremely unpleasant.

However, instead the boy reached into his back pocket, and brought out… a jutsu-stick! Her heart-rate got faster, and her hand tensed a bit in his hold. _They're not going to harm you_, she repeated in her head, over and over, trying to convince herself. You're a civilian, and they seem like rather friendly foreigners. _You're not going to get hurt!_ He smiled back at her reassuringly, and she relaxed a bit. _Remember, the little man helped you with a jutsu. Not all jutsus are bad._ She snorted mentally. _Just _almost _all_.

Swallowing heavily, she watched him anxiously, though outwardly her face was as blank as she could make it. Pointing the stick at her, he muttered a word in the foreign tongue. Incredibly, she felt herself start to rise from the ground. She was floating! Looking down, she watched in growing astonishment as she slowly rose level with his eyes. Sakura couldn't keep from grinning in pure childish delight, and watched as his face lit up in return. No one back in Konoha would believe this. She was _flying_! The fear which only moments ago had her cowering in a corner shriveled up and blew away. Logically, she knew she was feeling a little too carefree, a little too happy. Probably she should be worrying about her situation. Like wondering what manner of strangers she had landed amongst, who had jutsus powerful enough to make people _fly_. But… for once, she didn't care. It just felt _so good_ to smile, to not be afraid. Her smile got wider. Mischievously, she looked the boy straight in the eye, and then tucked her hands into her armpits and flapped. A short, surprised laugh broke from his throat, and she giggled shyly in return. Flap flap flap. She was a bird! The pink-eagle of Konoha.

Behind her, the medic said something to the boy. Waving his hand back in response, he slowly directed her floating body back towards her hospital bed. Very gently, he used the jutsu-stick to lower her back down onto her cot. The medic waited anxiously until she was fully seated, before rushing over to the side of her bed. Lips pursed, the woman pointed to the blood now staining the cotton gown, before pointing to herself. Sakura nodded, and the woman shooed the two males out of the room before starting to unbind the wounds.

The temporary euphoria from flying had worn off and her worries had returned, but the mind-numbing, bone-deep terror that stemmed from her recent memories had not. She wasn't sure why, exactly – whether it was the joy of flying itself, or maybe just the look of kindness in the boy's eyes, and the shared moment of laughter, and understanding, that had passed between them. Whatever the case, for the first time in days, Sakura felt almost… optimistic. Maybe being here wasn't such a bad thing. After all, her coming here had saved her from almost certain death. In that way, she could look at her arrival here as a blessing. And, so far, no one had actually tried to hurt, or even threaten her. Heck, they had actually healed her! Hm. Maybe, maybe she could give these people a little… _tiny_… bit of her trust.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews and encouragement! Don't forget – if at any time you have ideas for what should happen next, feel free to share them with me! I already know vaguely what will happen, but I love seeing what others dream up. :)

And onto the show…

Chapter 4

The boy returned a few hours later, accompanied by a stern-faced woman with her hair in a bun and a short old man with light blue eyes and a long white beard. When they came in, Sakura was sitting up in bed, propped up by a large pile of fluffy pillows and absolutely bored to death. Apparently, being a patient in a hospital was the same the world over: mind-numbingly dull. Eyeing the visitors, her attention was immediately drawn to the old man's right hand, which he was using to clutch a large book. The flesh was black and withered, as though it had been burnt, and a large gold ring with a cracked black stone gleamed on one finger. Sakura grimaced in sympathy. She knew, from experience, that burn wounds were excruciatingly painful, and wondered what had happened.

With a start, she recognized the boy's companions as two of the three adults she had seen in the gigantic hall. She eyed them carefully. Despite their seeming age and frailty, both carried themselves proudly, with the air of people used to command. She was strongly reminded of the village elders, and Sakura bet that these two were high up in the hierarchy of whatever organization ran this place. _These__people are important_. Her nervousness increased.

And then the old man smiled. All her anxiety vanished. Looking into his twinkling blue eyes, Sakura suddenly knew, beyond all doubt and question, that this man was _good_. She had no idea how she knew this, but it was as true as anything she had ever believed in during her life. He radiated warmth, security, and gentleness, and she found herself thinking wistfully of her father. Thank Kami-sama. She knew now that she hadn't ended up in the hands of an evil monster like _him_. She shuddered slightly.

However, she couldn't be too careful. Tsunade-sama was a good person, though not in the same sense of pure _good_ exuded by this man. However, despite being good, she would not hesitate to kill any and all enemy shinobi that trespassed into Konoha's lands. In fact, she would be a poor Hokage if she didn't. Sakura had no way of knowing how this man would react to her true identity, and decided to stick to her civilian story. It was safer, and better to be overly cautious than to be reckless and dead. During her life as a shinobi she had seen examples of that axiom, in _spades_.

The old man and women pulled up chairs, and sat to the left of her bed. The boy swung himself up on a cot to her right, and perched cross-legged on top. All looked at her. She smiled tentatively. They smiled back. Pointing to himself, the old man spoke slowly. "Albus Dumbledore."

The woman mimicked his gesture. "Minerva McGonagall." Despite her severe-looking face, genuine warmth shone in her eyes. When she smiled, the harsh lines around her lips relaxed, and Sakura was reminded of her grandmother.

"Harry Potter." The voice came from her right, and when she looked over, the boy grinned and waved. And then stuck his hands under his armpits and flapped. Sakura snickered despite herself, and gave a quick half-wave back.

Well, she guessed it was her turn. "Haruno Sakura," she said formally, and made the best short bow she could from a sitting position. "Pleased to meet you."

The old man's, no… Albus-san's, she corrected herself, eyes lit up, and he pulled open the large tome he had been carrying since walking in the door. Whipping out a pair of half-moon glasses, he rested them on the edge of his nose, where they wobbled precariously as he flipped through the book's pages. "Hm, uh…umm…" he muttered distractedly as he skimmed, before giving an enthusiastic "Ah hah!" and eagerly scanning one of the pages. He straightened up with a cough, looked Sakura in the eye, and made a shooing gesture with his hands. She stared in confusion. What did this strange old man want from her?

A throat cleared, and Sakura turned. Minerva-san looked at Albus-san, exasperated, and shook her head slightly. Pointing at Sakura with one hand, she mimed someone speaking with the other. Oh. They wanted her to say something. Why? Well, no matter. Might as well start working on that cover story. "Um… my name is Haruno Sakura. I am a lost civilian, I mean, person, and, uh…" she looked at the man hesitantly, to see if she was on the right track. He smiled encouragingly, and gestured for her to continue. Though he didn't seem to understand her words, he was listening intently to her speech. As to why, Sakura had no idea. "…I was set upon by robbers, and all my stuff was stolen. And I have absolutely no idea how I got here." She paused. The man was no longer focusing on her, but instead was running his finger down the page, squinting fixedly at whatever was written. Finally he stopped and shut the book with a loud thud. Everyone else in the room watched him curiously. Even Sakura was intrigued. Her nervousness had long been forgotten.

Until he pulled out a jutsu-causing stick. She couldn't help it – she tensed and looked down, and silently cursed herself for it. Albus-san, however, didn't seem to think her reaction was strange. He simply placed the stick on his lap, and waited patiently until she lifted her head and returned his gaze. Compassion filled his blue eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. _"Haruno-san, please,"_ he said, gesturing to the stick. Sakura gaped in astonishment. Albus had spoken in her language! Had Albus-san understood her, after all? Impossible!

"Albus-san, do you speak my language?" she asked, puzzled.

Shaking his head in incomprehension, he pointed again to the stick. _"Please,"_ he repeated, again in her language.

Hm. Apparently not. It seemed Albus-san only knew that one word, and was using it to try to gain her trust. Once again, Sakura was struck by how nice these people seemed, and really hoped they actually were as friendly as they appeared. Well, there was no point in prolonging the inevitable. Albus-san wanted to cast this jutsu, and she couldn't stop him if she tried. More importantly, she herself was trying to gain these foreigners' trust. What better way then to show her own? Slowly, she nodded to Albus. He picked up his stick and with an extreme act of will, she kept herself from flinching. _Reddo patesco!_

The familiar tingle of chakra swept over her, and for a few seconds she felt her ears and throat buzz. Then it was over.

Albus-san smiled happily, and made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "Welcome to Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

Sakura gasped. Albus-san was still speaking in the foreign language, but somehow she understood what he was saying! What an incredible jutsu! She stared at him in awe, once again both curious about and more than a bit afraid of these people with the power to make people fly and understand each other's languages. What incredible allies for Konoha! She shuddered a little. Or what horrible enemies. She would have to be very, _very_ careful in dealing with these foreigners. Things could get incredibly bad for her village if she made them angry.

With a little bit of smugness, she noted his words. She was right! This was a school, though a school of what, she wasn't so sure. Witchcraft and wizardry? Never heard of it. Maybe it was a civilian thing.

Belatedly, she realized they were all eagerly waiting for her response. Time to act harmless and confused, which, she reflected, shouldn't be too hard, since she was. "Um… I'm Haruno Sakura, as I said before. Pleased to meet you. I… I'm really sorry for my rude behavior up to now, all the running away and stuff. It's just that I have absolutely no idea how I got here… and I had just been attacked by robbers, and then wham! Here I was! And, uh…" _Dammit, I'm babbling_, she realized, and cut herself off. _I always ramble when I'm nervous_.

Albus-san smiled kindly. "That's okay, my dear. It turns out that we know how you got here."

Sakura's voice rose in excitement. "You do? How?"

"It was our fault actually, though from what I've seen, your arrival here was probably a good thing, for you. Harry here," he said, gesturing towards the boy, "was practicing the rescue spell, a highly advanced form of the summoning charm, on a mouse. Suffice to say, he ended up 'rescuing' a bit more than he had intended, namely you." His eyes twinkled merrily towards the boy, as he added, "But then Harry has always had a penchant for seemingly performing the impossible, especially where helping people is concerned." Harry blushed.

Sakura stared blankly at Albus-san. "Uh, sorry, I don't quite understand. What do you mean by 'spell,' and 'charm?'"

Albus-san's gaze grew piercing, although his smile remained as gentle as ever. "Sorry, my dear. From your reaction to my wand, and your unquestioning acceptance of the translation spell, I figured you must be familiar with magic. You're not?"

Magic? Was he serious? Magic belonged in the same realm as spirits and dragons, in the realm of her grandmother's folk tales, and in manga and the movies. Surely he couldn't mean it was _real_? But then again… only a little while ago, she had seen a spirit, something yesterday she would have sworn couldn't exist. Maybe magic was real, wherever she was. A shiver ran down her spine. Spirits and magic… what next? Kami-sama, what kind of world had she stumbled onto?

Time to start hedging. She would have explained that she thought he used a jutsu, except that where she came from, only shinobi knew about chakra, shinobi and the few civilians who happened to see a shinobi use a jutsu. And unless a civilian went to a hidden village to request aid, most likely he would never see a shinobi in his life, much less see one actually fight. The closest the innocent civilian she was pretending to be would have been to an actual shinobi would be in the ninja movies. "I'm sorry. I've heard of magic before, but I never had any idea that it was actually real. I've been wondering what made those sticks…wands…do what they did ever since the little man first pointed his at me and made me feel better…"

"Little man?" Minerva-san interrupted, finally entering the conversation. She sounded amused.

"I believe, Minerva, that Sakura is referring to Professor Flitwick. He cast on Sakura a charm of his own creation, a combination of two powerful healing and energizing charms. As I remember, it was very useful in the last war." Albus-san's tone was serious, but his eyes were laughing madly. Harry snorted with laughter, though he hastily covered it up.

Sakura flushed lightly. Whoops. Apparently she had already insulted one of the teachers, though thankfully everyone looked more amused than offended. It was hard judging what to say and what not to say, especially with this new language. She was going to have to watch her step very carefully.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out quickly. "I didn't mean any offense."

Minerva-san patted her gently on the hand. "No worries, dear. We know you didn't mean anything by it." Her eyes glinted wickedly. "Your description was very… apt."

Sakura hurriedly continued. "Uh, anyway, as I was saying, before the professor used his wand, I'd never seen one before in my life." Good so far, all that was completely true. Now for the tricky part. "I, uh…" she hemmed nervously, and then the words flowed out in a rush, "guess that after Harry-san used his to make me fly, I had just accepted that weird things go on when people point those sticks. And so, when you used yours to do the trans-la-tion spell, I was just too relieved at being able to understand everyone that I forgot to ask." There. She took a deep breath, and looked around cautiously. Had they bought it? She had always been a horrendous liar.

"Well, it appears I was quite mistaken then," responded Albus-san. "My bad, my dear. This means you are in for quite a bit of a surprise, though it should be a pleasant one. If you stay with us for any length of time, I'm sure you will get to experience all the wonders of magic, firsthand."

Sakura sighed mentally in relief. He hadn't commented on her obviously questionable explanation. She wasn't naïve enough, however, to assume this meant that he believed her. Something told her that though Albus-san might play at being old, a lot of his eccentricities were only for show. She would bet that underneath, his mind was as sharp as ever. It was highly possible he was simply letting her explanation slide.

Albus-san settled back slightly in his chair, and looked down at her through the panes of his spectacles. His gaze was penetrating, and she squirmed a little. Now what?

"Now, me dear," he said, as though reading her mind, "that you know a little bit about us, why don't you tell us a little about who you are?"

Uh oh. Warning bells went off inside Sakura's head. Well, damn. She had been plopped right back into the hotseat. Her palms sweated. Remember your story, Sakura. Harmless civilian. Lost and beaten. And for the sake of Kami-sama, choose your words _carefully_. For no reason she could immediately identify, she glanced over at Harry-san. He smiled back reassuringly, but for once, it didn't make her feel any better. A cold lump weighed down her stomach, and it took three tries before she could finally open her mouth. Right. Here we go.

"Let's see. Well, there's nothing really interesting about me to tell. Hehehe." She giggled nervously, trying to look cutely timid and not like she was lying through her teeth. "Um… I'm 16 years old, and am an only child. I'm apprenticed to an…um…" she searched her mind desperately for an innocuous trade, before deciding to keep everything as close to the truth as possible "… to a medic." That was the understatement of the year. "I come from…" uh oh, she couldn't tell them she was from one of the shinobi nations, since then they might guess her true job. Dammit! Lying was so much harder than Kakashi-sensei made it look! How did he do it so easily? Though to be fair, he probably didn't expect anyone to actually believe him.

Sakura realized she had paused too long. Everyone was looking at her expectantly. Cripes! She was going to blow it! Focus, Sakura. The problem was, she didn't know of any countries outside the Five Great Shinobi Nations. Geography lessons at the academy had ended at their borders. They had been told that in the rare, rare cases where missions took them outside of the Great Nations, they would be briefed accordingly. Sakura's mind worked furiously, trying to remember anything she had heard about outside nations. Wasn't there that one time Kakashi-sensei had said he'd gone some place where the people had darker skin, and worshipped cows? Or was that chickens?

It took Sakura a few seconds to realize Minerva-san had spoken. She looked over, puzzled. "Sorry? What did you say?"

"Japan?" the older woman asked again. "Is that where you're from?"

Sakura gave her a blank look. _Was_ that where she was from? She didn't think so. About to shake her head, she paused when the woman slowly added, "After all, you _are_ speaking Japanese."

She was? Is that what her language was called? So few outsiders came to the Shinobi Nations that there had never been any need to put a name to what they spoke. At least, Sakura had never learned the name – though she was sure one had to exist. Tsunade-sama probably knew, since she had to interact with foreigners as part of her duties as Hokage. Hm. Wonder what language I'm speaking right now…

_Crap! I'm spacing again_. Well, if people in this place called Japan spoke her language, what they labeled as 'Japanese,' then that was great! Minerva had given her just the answer she had been searching for. Sakura could claim she was from this 'Japan,' and then her speaking another language wouldn't seem suspicious. A chill ran down her, as she was hit with the terrifying thought that the two countries might be enemies, or even at war. Oh Kami-sama, she hoped not! Well, they hadn't killed her yet…

Slowly, Sakura nodded. "Yes. That's where I'm from. Japan." She added a sweet little smile at the end, trying to charm them into believing her. Look young and innocent, she told herself. Hopefully they would think her confusion stemmed merely from youth and, at worst, a bit of stupidity. She looked around. Harry looked doubtful. Minerva-san was obviously unconvinced, her eyebrow close to her hairline. In contrast, Albus-san's face was absolutely blank. She couldn't read him at all.

"I couldn't think of the name in this new language," she added defensively, somehow feeling under attack though no one had said anything at all. "In our language, we say our country's name differently. I don't think the translation spell works right."

"Oh?" asked Minerva-san. "And which island of Japan are you from?"

Islands? Just what was this Japan-place anyway? "The southern one," Sakura said, trying to sound confident. That had to be a safe answer, right? Surely one island had to be more south than the others.

She wouldn't have thought it possible, but Minerva-san's eyebrow went up even farther. "Any particular city on this southernmost island?" Sakura thought she might have detected a slightly sardonic ring to Minerva-san's usual tone, and her palms sweated harder.

"Eh heh heh. No, actually. I'm just from one of the little villages. Too small to even have a name, really." Damn, she was a bad liar. She glanced around anxiously. Any minute now, they were going to call her out, and she had no idea what she was going to do. Why did she have to end up in these situations? But then again, better her than either of her teammates. Naruto would probably have told them everything from his life goals (Hokage, of course) to what he had for breakfast to the entire history of Konoha, all within the first thirty-seconds. Kakashi-sensei would have offended them with some perverted comment, before laying back down on his cot and taking a nap. Or pulling out Icha-Icha.

Sakura sighed fondly, thinking of her teammates. She loved them, but _really_, sometimes they were both just so ridiculous. Logically, it was probably best they weren't here. Though what she wouldn't give for one of them to walk in the door _right now_… Ah well.

The room was silent for a few long seconds after Sakura's comment. They were probably waiting for Sakura to say something more, she realized, giving her time to take back such an obvious falsehood. But she wasn't going to say anything more, and finally Albus-san spoke. Mercifully, he changed the topic, and Sakura was inwardly thankful that, for the second time, he didn't accuse her of lying.

"Ah. That's good to know, then. You'll probably be interested to know that we are in fact in Scotland, which together with England forms a large island just north of France. Which is all, of course, in Europe."

None of those terms meant anything to Sakura, and, feeling his eyes watch her keenly, she wondered if this was a test. "Ah, good. Thank you," she replied, keeping her face as expressionless as possible. "I was wondering."

The silence stretched out for a few more moments, until finally Albus-san stood up with a sigh. He seemed sad, and for the first time since she had met him, he actually looked _old_. "We're not your enemies, child," he said, shoulders sagging a bit. "There is no reason to be afraid. You don't have to answer any questions you don't want to, and you are welcome to stay here as long as you want. However, if we have an idea of where you're from, then we can help you return there." His laze lingered on her bandaged arm, and then inexplicably on her ear, as he added, "That is, of course, if you want to return." With a soft sigh, he turned towards the door. "I hope in time you will learn to trust us."

Minerva-san followed his lead, and left on his heels. Though Sakura knew there had been no other option but to lie, she still felt inexplicably miserable. For some reason, she had the feeling that Albus-san had expected better of her, and that she had let him down. It was like disappointing her grandfather. The guilt clawed at her stomach.

Green eyes watched her sympathetically. "Ow, huh?" said a voice conversationally. "Professor Dumbledore may be a wonderful wizard, but he sure knows how to pack those emotional punches." Harry grinned. "If you think this was bad… wait until he makes you feel guilty without saying _anything_." He shook his head in admiration. "That takes _skill_."

Sakura whirled. Some shinobi she was, completely forgetting that a potential enemy was still in the room. Though maybe she hadn't noticed because subconsciously, she didn't really consider Harry-san a threat. He just seemed too, well, _nice _of a guy to be an enemy. She grimaced. Somewhere in her head Naruto was laughing hysterically at her, and Kakashi-sensei was giving her one of his cheerful eye-creases before saying "Sakura, you fail!" If Ino could see her now, Sakura was sure her friend would be teasing her mercilessly about letting her guard down around a cute boy. Sakura shook her mental head angrily. It wasn't like that _at all_. Sure, Harry-san was cute, in a messy-haired, puppy-dog kind of way. However, first of all, he was just, well, too young for her to be really interested. Unlike Ino-pig, who went through boys like other kunochi went through kunai, Sakura had found that after Sasuke-kun had left, she just wasn't attracted to other boys her age. When she was younger, she had figured it was due to gender-based differences in maturity levels. Now that she was older, and boys were, at least _in theory_, supposed to have grown up, she wondered. Why wasn't she dating, like most girls her age? She knew it was whispered amongst her peers that she was waiting for Sasuke-kun to stop running around with the Sound and return to her, and a couple of times rejected suitors had even said so angrily to her face. Sakura had sometimes wondered herself whether or not they were right. Had she been subconsciously waiting for Sasuke-kun? Was that why she simply had not been interested in the boys around her? Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, she certainly wasn't waiting for him now. Sasuke-kun would never return to Konoha, or to her.

Besides, just as importantly, even if she _had_ been attracted to Harry-san, she was certainly too good of a shinobi to let that persuade her into giving him her trust. It may not be an official rule in the shinobi handbook, but every shinobi who lived past puberty knew not to trust a potential enemy simply because they had a sweet smile and sugary tongue. In fact, experience had taught Sakura that around those types, it paid to be _extra_ wary.

She trusted Harry-san for other reasons, some of which she didn't fully understand herself. Thinking back to when she flew, she recalled their brief shared smile, and the look of understanding and joy that had flashed quickly between them. His green eyes had been lit up with laughter and surprise… and he had looked so happy and innocent that she couldn't help but smile back. Hm. Maybe that was it. She gazed at Harry-san, who was still sitting across from her, watching her as curiously as she was watching him. Despite a hint of darkness that lurked in his eyes, left there by some deep past sorrow, there was still an innocence about him, a naivety that most shinobi had lost by the time they were fourteen. The continuous battles and inevitable death quickly hardened even the most innocent of shinobi. Even Naruto, despite retaining his perkiness and wide friendly smile, had lost that childish sparkle that had so brightened up their genin days. She sighed nostalgically, thinking wistfully of those too few days when team seven had been complete and she had believed, naively, that it would stay that way forever.

Impulsively, she decided to stop fighting against this natural trust of Harry-san, and simply accept it. Maybe, despite them being the same age, he reminded her of herself when she was younger, and that was why she trusted him. Maybe not. Anyway, for whatever reason, her subconscious had faith in him, and at the moment that was enough for her. Though Albus-san and Minerva-san seemed like very nice people, she desperately needed someone she could trust implicitly, someone to help guide her through this alien world that surrounded her. She needed a friend.

Looking towards Harry-san, she smiled, and tried to remember what he said. Something about punches, and Albus-san making people feel guilty. Except he hadn't used the name Albus-san, but something else. Oh, right. "Yes," she said, "Professor Dumbledore seems like a very… powerful person."

Harry-san looked surprised, and laughed sheepishly. "Oh, um… I didn't mean punch as in, you know," he made a fist and hit out at the air. "Wham! Punch! Heh heh. Guess I should have been more clear. It's just that you looked a little shell-shocked, and I thought it might cheer you up to know that he often has that effect on people."

Now Sakura was more confused. "Shell…shocked?"

"Oh, I did it again, didn't I?" He ran his hand through his hair distractedly, looking a little embarrassed, and Sakura realized that this habit must be behind the messy hair. "Shell-shocked. It means… stunned from surprise, I guess, or at least that's how I meant it."

"Ah." Apparently the language jutsu… no, spell, she corrected herself, translated everything literally, though with correct grammar forms. Great. Hopefully these people wouldn't use too much slang, though from what she had seen so far, she wasn't going to be that lucky. "I guess I need to work on my…" Huh. She still didn't know what their language was called, even while she was _speaking_ it. "Sorry, Harry-san. What is the name of this language?"

"English. And what did you call me?" he asked curiously.

"Harry-san," she responded hesitantly. "Isn't that your name?"

"Well, sort of. But it's just Harry, not Harrysaun."

"Okay," she said with a smile. "Harry. My name is Sakura."

He wrinkled his brow up in confusion. "Sakura? Do you call people by their last names where you come from? I thought your name was Haruno."

Damn that translation spell. What did he mean by 'last' name? Did they mean her personal name? A thought struck her, and she blanched. Harry had told her to address him by his family name. Maybe he thought she was being too familiar! Had she read the situation wrong? Did he not want to be friends? Oh no! Only a minute into the conversation, and she had already alienated him by being too familiar. "I'm very sorry, Harry," she said, casting her eyes downwards in shame. "I did not mean to be too familiar. Please forgive me. I would be honored if you would address me by my family name, as I am honored to address you by yours."

Harry looked dumbfounded. "I think we may have our wires crossed…" he backtracked hastily when she frowned, puzzled. "I mean, I think we may have misunderstood each other. My family name isn't Harry, it's Potter. I mean, it's my father's name, and his father's name, and so forth. You get the idea. My own name is Harry."

Oh. OH! "When introducing yourself, you say your personal name first, and then your family name?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said slowly. "How else would you… oh!" His realization mirrored her own. His voice raised in sudden excitement. "In Japan, you must say it the opposite way!"

She nodded eagerly in response. Thank goodness. They grinned at each other. The situation hadn't been damaged irreparably by her poor manners, as she had first feared. "Please. Call me Sakura, my _personal_ name," she stressed.

"Sure thing, _Sakura_," he teased.

Great. They were back on track, and Sakura had oodles of questions she was just dying to have answered. She really wanted to ask him more about how he brought her here, but she knew her priorities. This might not actually be enemy territory, but it wouldn't hurt to treat it so. First step. Gather information about the surrounding area, including other shinobi and people of power.

"So Harry," she began. "Professor Dumbledore said that I am in a school, is that right?"

"Yep!" He leaned forward eagerly, obviously glad that the conversation was finally getting somewhere. "You're at Hogwarts, the best witchcraft and wizardry school anywhere…"


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Hi all! Sorry to burst everyone's bubbles, but Kakashi is not going to be in the story for at least five more chapters. I apologize to everyone who was expecting him to pop up soon, but as I guess I didn't make sufficiently clear earlier, this is first and foremost Sakura's story. Kakashi is important, but his place is a clear second. But don't worry! He'll have his time at Hogwarts, too. Just not for a while!

And as always, thanks for all the comments, advice, and support!

Chapter 5

Sakura took a deep breathe experimentally. Hm, not bad. Only the slightest ache remained on her left side, which was pretty good considering that only three days earlier, a dagger had been buried there, up to the hilt. Now to test the stomach wound. Tentatively she poked her belly, and hissed in pain. Apparently, that was going to take a little while longer. The medic, whom Sakura had learned was called Madam Pomfrey, had known some amazing healing spells, some of which Sakura desperately wished she could take home to Konoha. However, even Madam Pomfrey couldn't instantly fix a gash to the stomach. Sakura smiled fondly, remembering the plump little woman's indignant face when she had asked a few days ago if she could try getting up and moving around. "Certainly now!" the medic said, bristling. "I'm not a miracle worker, you know. After an injury like _that_, well, you should be happy you're still alive, and not joining the Headless Hunt's ghostly cheering section! Get up and move, _indeed_." And had proceeded to glare at Sakura as though she held her personally responsible for getting injured in the first place. Sakura snorted mentally. Right. As though she had wanted to get a sword through her stomach.

The Headless Hunt. Ghosts. Once she would have started at those strange words, and thought that the speaker was officially off of their rocker. Now, though she couldn't say she was exactly… comfortable with the idea of spirits, she certainly wasn't going to run away in terror, or think that one was an omen of death, as she did only days before. Harry had explained to her that the ghosts of Hogwarts were harmless, and actually could be pretty friendly. He had even brought Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost she had charged at in the hallway, to see her, in order to show her how nice they could be. Once Sakura had stopped hiding behind Harry, they had actually managed to carry on a polite, though one-sided discussion about tea - Sakura's side of the conversation had consisted mostly of long, frightened pauses ended with a few stammered words. Luckily, however, Nearly Headless Nick loved to hear himself talk, and rather than be offended had looked quite happy to have such an avid listener.

And that brought her thoughts around to Harry. He had been a near constant companion over the last few days, snatching whatever time he could in between and after classes to visit the infirmary. At each visit he would anxiously ask about her wounds, and then would either tell her about his day or she would ask him some of her many questions about this new world she found herself in. She had learned a lot about this strange, magical school from him. Apparently it trained the young generation of magic-users, called witches and wizards, much like the academy trained young shinobi. What surprised her, however, was that unlike academy students, who were expected to grow up and fight for the village, most witches and wizards were not affiliated with the military. Excluding a few people called aurors, who apparently fought evil magic-users and acted as a kind of magical police, most magic-users simply spent their lives as ordinary, though talented, civilians.

The idea was astonishing. She had never really thought about what her life would be like if she wasn't a shinobi, even when she had missions that took her into civilian villages. Like most shinobi, she grew up accepting that there was 'Us' and then there was 'Them,' and that there was an intrinsic division between the two. Thus, she knew rather little of civilian life in her own country, much less civilian life in this foreign one.

It felt especially strange to be in a civilian school, so different from her own academy days. Here, all the children had to worry about if they failed their homework was a bad mark on a slip of paper, instead of losing a hand, or getting a kunai in the eye. She had expressed her surprise to Harry, though cautiously, saying it was nice to see so many happy faces, where the students had no fear of war. That's when Harry had chuckled grimly, and she learned about Voldemort, or You-Know-Who. Fascinated, she had listened, spellbound, as Harry spun a tale of murder, terrorism, and a mother's love that was better than any movie or manga and was completely true! She was a little shocked to learn that her bedside companion was actually a famous hero in the wizarding world, but was not so surprised to learn that Professor Dumbledore was significantly more dangerous than he looked. She had known from the start that he was more powerful than the doddering old man he pretended to be.

So. Here she was in the middle of another war. She would say it must be fate, except she wasn't egotistical enough to think that fate cared much about her, one way or the other. War was just the way of the world. People loved to slaughter each other, no matter what exotic clothes they were wearing or weapons they used to do so. The cynical part of Sakura noted that she couldn't claim to be any better. She was a shinobi – her entire purpose in life was to kill other shinobi for the sake of her village and country. War and death would follow her no matter where she went, for the rest of her life. Which probably wouldn't be long. The life of a shinobi, it was said, is like a candle. It burns bright and dangerous, and is blown out before it realizes it has been lit. Sakura stared moodily at the bright glow of the lantern that lit the infirmary.

Her morbid musings were cut off by the sound of the door opening. In popped a familiar grinning face. "Hey!"

"Hi Harry," she chirped happily back. No matter how often he came by, it was always good to see him. To be reminded that she wasn't completely alone.

"Hey, Sakura. How are you feeling today?"

"Great! My wounds are practically healed," she said half-truthfully. She had realized early on that Harry felt responsible for her because he had brought her here, albeit accidentally. However, for some strange reason which she still didn't understand, he seemed to feel responsible for her injuries as well. Sakura found this absolutely ridiculous. He certainly hadn't been the one to stab her, or do any of the numerous other things they had done to her body. However, no matter how many times she tried to convince him of this, he simply nodded 'yes yes yes' and continued to look guilty. Finally, she had given up, and now tried to make her wounds seem as healed as possible, no matter how much they actually hurt. The happiness the news would bring to his face was worth the little bit of lying and evasion required.

Predictably, Harry's face lit up. "Wicked! In that case, I thought you might be interested in getting out of the infirmary for a bit, and coming downstairs for a spot of breakfast. That is, of course," he added hastily, "if Madam Pomfrey says it's okay."

Sakura's spirits soared. Get out of the room?! Yes, please! "If you could ask her for me, Harry, that would be wonderful. She's in her office, and until she says so, I wouldn't dare get up and risk crossing her." They shared a look of mutual understanding. Madam Pomfrey could be _scary_.

He ducked into her office, and Sakura waited anxiously. Murmured voices floated out through the open door, and finally Madam Pomfrey appeared with Harry in tow. She bustled over to Sakura's cot, and eyed her carefully. "Well, let's get a look at you, dear. Harry says that you think you're well enough to go walking about, and you've certainly made definite improvement in the last couple of days." Sakura sighed inwardly. If she had been able to heal herself, she would have been up and walking around yesterday. Unfortunately, her chakra coils must also have been damaged, since she hadn't been able to summon chakra at all since she woke up in the infirmary. The little spurt of chakra she had used when she arrived at Hogwarts seemed to have been the last of her of chakra stores. Which weren't replenishing.

"Hmm, hmm." Madam Pomfrey puttered about, prodding and poking at Sakura's multiple bandages. Sakura tried not to wince as she hit a particularly painful spot along her stomach. Finally the medi-witch stopped and eyed her dubiously. "Alright. I guess you've healed up enough, though how, I really don't know. You may go for a short… I mean _short_, young lady… walk, which is to breakfast and back. No side-trips, or accidentally getting lost." She fixed Harry with a hard stare. "I'm holding you personally responsible if she comes back tired and bleeding, Mister Potter. None of your normal reckless behavior, or crazy adventures. Clear?"

Harry looked slightly abashed. "Of course, Madam Pomfrey." He perked up. "May we go now? Please?"

"Yes, you may."

"All right!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, almost bouncing in his eagerness to assist her off her cot. Sakura was more restrained, but inside mirrored his happiness. _Oh yeah!_ Inner Sakura pumped a fist. _Here we go, girl!_ Carefully, she slipped off the bed, and into her slippers. Finally, I get to get out of this room and... I'm going to see other people! Suddenly self-conscious, she looked down at herself. Dressed in standard hospital wear, a thick white top and pair of cotton pants, she was certainly not going to make a stunning first impression. She sighed miserably. With her luck, she probably stank something _awful_. Even worse, her hair must be a _disaster!_ She hadn't been able to wash it properly, or straighten it, or use any of her absolutely essential hair products for days! There was no way she could let people see her like this!

Madam Pomfrey seemed to sense her dilemma. Her eyes softened. "How about a bit of washing up before hand, eh dear? Would you like that?"

"Yes, please!" said Sakura gratefully.

Fifteen minutes later, hair freshly washed (though not with _her_ shampoo), face scrubbed, and wearing a clean pair of hospital whites, Sakura emerged from the bathroom, immensely cheered and feeling ready to handle whatever this strange place threw at her. Harry had talked a lot about Hogwarts and what to expect, and over the past couple days Sakura's fear of this new magical world had slowly melted away, to be gradually replaced with wonder. She was dying to see all the marvelous things he had talked about… moving staircases, walking suits of armor, and portraits that talked and acted as though they were alive!

She grinned at Harry, and they started walking down the corridor, Harry pointing at and naming portraits as they went. Timidly, she waved at a picture of a nobleman in a feathered hat, and blinked as she got a cheeky wink in return. Harry hadn't been lying; this place truly was amazing!

All too soon, they arrived at the doors to the Great Hall. This time, however, they were open, and a stream of bleary-eyed, yawning students was trickling in.

"Come on!" said Harry, enthusiastically, tugging gently on her arm. Carefully, he steered her around milling students and towards a long table on the right side of the room. People, Sakura noticed, were turning to stare at her as she passed, and conversation dropped from its previous loud buzz to a muted hum.

Harry glared at the students who were openly pointing and whispering, and said loudly, "Don't mind them. I've noticed that blokes with too much time on their hands and too little to do often end up staring and trying to butt into other people's business. It happens to me all the time."

Some people, abashed, turned back to their breakfast, and others started whispering to each other angrily. However, many kept watching her, and Sakura felt her back go up. It wasn't that their gazes were hostile – if they were, she would have been out of that room in a second, her injuries and Madam Pomfrey be damned. It was just that she wasn't used to being stared at, and as a trained shinobi, such focused attention made her nervous. Half of winning a fight was the element of surprise, of sneaking up on your opponent, undetected. Shinobi weren't supposed to be seen, and those that were usually got a kunai in the back.

However, Sakura had caught the whiff of cooked meat and fresh fruit, and her stomach rumbled hungrily. Pushing her chin up, she lengthened her stride. She wasn't going to run away from her breakfast simply because a bunch of curious kids were looking at her. Please. How lame would that be. Reaching the table, Harry guided her down into a space at his left. To her left was a short, bushy-haired girl, who had a large book spread out on the table in front of her. She looked far more interested in reading than eating, her toast held absently in the air, forgotten half-way on its trip up to her mouth.

"Hey, Hermione," said Harry, reaching across Sakura to poke the girl in the shoulder. "This is the girl I was telling you about. Hermione, meet Sakura. Sakura, this is Hermione, one of my two best friends and an absolute genius. In case you ever want to know anything that could be found in a book, ask her. She's top in our class, and knows everything."

Hermione blushed. "Not_ everything_, Harry. Don't exaggerate. Just what we're studying, and a little that I've read up on in my free time. You'd know it too, if you would study more…"

"Alright, alright." Harry threw up his hands in mock defeat. "You win. Er… do you know where Ron is? I wanted to introduce Sakura to him, too."

"Oh, you know what a dreadful morning person Ron is. He'll stumble down here eventually… wait, there he is now." She gestured, and all three turned to the door to see a red-headed, freckled-faced boy make his way wearily over to where they sat. He seemed to find the table more out of long practice than though any actual awareness of his surroundings, and plopped himself down in front of Hermione without looking closely at any of them. Reaching forward, he groped out blindly for the nearest dish of food before shoving a whole pancake into his mouth. Hermione snorted in disgust.

"Good Morning, Ron," said Harry, looking amused.

Ron mumbled something through his pancake, which Sakura assumed was some sort of greeting back, and not him choking on the incredibly large mouthful that had puffed up his cheeks like a squirrel. Grabbing a glass of orange-juice, he took a huge gulp and managed to clear his throat, finally looking a little more awake. "Oi, good morning, mate. Blimey, you wouldn't believe how hard a time I had finding some clean underwear this morning. I think the house-elves, those little buggers, have run away with…"

Harry cleared his throat loudly, and nodded with his chin towards the two girls. "Ron," he said meaningfully.

Focusing in on them for the first time, Ron finally registered that there were two girls sitting in front of him and flushed beet red. "Oh…um…" he stammered, eyeing Hermione warily. Sakura bit back an amused grin.

"Honestly, Ronald. You really can be a pig sometimes, you know?" Hermione shook her head in exasperation, looking about to launch into a lengthy lecture.

Ron, turning to silently plead Harry for rescue, caught sight of Sakura's pink hair. She could see the light bulb go off in his head.

"Oi, hey! You're the pink-haired girl who appeared in charms. Who was bleeding and naked and stuff, and then went running away like a mad woman! You looked like you had been attacked by an axe murderer, or something. What _happened_ to you?!"

Honestly, Sakura was surprised someone hadn't asked sooner. During all their talks, Harry had carefully tip-toed around the subject of her injuries, steering away the conversation if it got too close. Apparently, he had accepted her claim that she had been attacked by robbers, despite glaringly obvious holes in her story, such as the fact that she was naked. Of course, there was one potential explanation for that… which Sakura really, _really_ didn't want to think about, much less use as an excuse. Thankfully, he had obviously decided that her attack was a sensitive subject, and respected her privacy.

Ron, however, clearly lacked his friend's tact, and Harry looked ready to kill him. Out of the corner of her right eye, Sakura could see Harry's grip on his cereal spoon tighten, the cords standing out on his hand. To her left, Hermione looked equally furious, as though she was seriously considering bashing Ron over the head with her book. Hm. Hermione must have been briefed by Harry on what was, and was _not_, permissible to say to Sakura. Ron, of course, was oblivious to what he had done, and looked at Sakura eagerly, waiting for an answer.

Well, she couldn't avoid the question forever. An entire classroom had seen her appear, injured and naked, and she was sure the rumors had spread like wildfire. She bet there wasn't a child in the school who didn't know about her arrival, and was wondering who she was. A little further down the table in both directions, heads tilted slightly in their direction, obviously having heard Ron's loud question and interested in the answer.

"I was robbed," she told Ron simply. "The attackers took all my possessions, and then tried to kill me. Apparently they didn't want to leave a witness. Or maybe they were simply bored. Anyway, I ran, and Harry rescued me with his spell. For which I am very grateful." Sakura smiled at Harry, hoping that would end the questioning. Harry smiled tersely back.

"But…" Ron continued, not satisfied. "Why were you _naked_?" The last word was uttered with such a plaintive whine that it stopped all conversation up and down the table. Heads turned openly. Sakura tried to keep a grip on her temper.

"The robbers were poor. I was wearing some nice clothing. They wanted it, and so they stole that too." She tried to smile at Ron, but had a suspicion it looked more like a baring of teeth. Oh well.

"Oh. That makes sense." Ron seemed to ponder this for a bit, and inwardly, Sakura smiled, relieved. It seemed that was the end of it. Hermione seemed to have the same thought, and turned towards Sakura. "So, do…"

Before she could get more than two words out, Ron's voice cut her off. "But that's not what Harry said. He said that you had been tortured, that there had been…"

"Ron!" Harry stood up sharply, throwing down his spoon. It hit his plate with a clatter, the sound shocking Ron into silence and cutting short whatever he was going to say next.

He turned towards Harry, mouth still open, blue eyes wide in surprise. "Whaaat…" he began, slowly, before cringing back before the raw fury in his best friend's green eyes. "Blimey Harry. What's the matter?"

Harry pointed towards the door. "Out. Get out. We need to talk. Right now!"

Ron pushed himself hastily to his feet, and stumbled along behind Harry, trying to catch up with Harry's long strides. "Oi, Mate. What's going on…" The slam of the hall door closing behind him cut off the rest of the sentence, and for a few brief moments the hall was completely silent. Talking and eating soon resumed with a renewed fervor, and many glanced with interest towards Sakura and Hermione.

Sakura sat at the table with Hermione, staring at the place the two boys had vanished. Kami-sama. Though she appreciated Harry's show of support, and agreed that Ron really had no business asking her such personal questions, well… she could understand, though not sympathize with, Ron's nosiness. Much of her young life had been spent, _was_ still spent, hanging around with boys, and she quickly learned the rule of boyhood which stated that if boys _could_ be tactless, they _would_. She had long since accepted it as one of those inevitable facts of nature, like the sun rising and Kakashi-sensei reading porn. Sometimes, when she could almost _see_ the cogs in their heads turning and just _knew_ that some tasteless comment was coming, she amused herself by pulling out her mental checklist. Let's see. Opportunity to make a crude and insensitive statement? Check. Open mouth and insert foot? Check. Time to exact retribution for the entire female species by punching them in the face? Double check, and _wham_! (After all, just because she understood that boys were genetically wired to be pigs didn't make them any _less _of pigs.)

Thus, she wasn't as offended as Harry might think, and actually worried a bit for Ron's safety. Harry looked ready to _kill_ him. Plus, she really didn't want to be the reason a trio of such obviously close friends fought. If there was anything positive that came out of team seven's breakup (which Sakura seriously doubted) it was that she had finally learned how precious close friendships were. It was only after team seven had been shattered, and she stared with horror at the raw, gaping hole that had been torn in her heart, that she had truly realized how much their close-knit bond had meant to her. Her mother's warnings, that Sakura had always brushed off as trite clichés, had turned out to be absolutely true. You never appreciated what you had until you lost it.

She turned to Hermione, about to ask whether they should go after the boys and try to calm them down, and stopped, puzzled. Hermione was staring nervously at her plate, obviously trying to avoid Sakura's eye. Noticing Sakura's gaze, she fidgeted uncomfortably, her hands folding and unfolding the fabric in her lap.

"Um, Hermione?" asked Sakura, slowly.

"Yes?" she practically squeaked, her voice several octaves higher than normal.

Sakura paused, confused. What was Hermione so worried about? Surely, she wasn't afraid of _her_? She certainly hadn't been acting like this a few minutes ago. Sakura thought back to the events that had just passed. Ron had asked what had happened to her. She had explained that she'd been robbed. Then, he had asked why she had been naked. She had said that they'd wanted her clothes. Then, he had _continued_ to talk, saying something about Harry, and that she had been tortured…

She paled abruptly. How could she have missed that? Some shinobi she was, getting her lies and stories all mixed together. No wonder Tsunade-sama had never sent her on any missions requiring spying. Ron's comment that she had been tortured had seemed natural to Sakura, since the memories of her captivity continually haunted her mind. She had forgotten, however, the extremely important fact that no one, _no one_ besides herself should know that she had been tortured. How did he find out? _What did he know?_ Were these people, as incredibly as it seemed, in league with _him_?

Grabbing Hermione's arm, Sakura yanked the startled girl to her feet, and ignored the resulting pain in her side. "Come on," she hissed angrily. "We're going to have a little talk with your friends."

Too surprised to protest, and looking more than a little guilty, Hermione let Sakura lead her out of the great hall and into the hallway beyond. Sakura looked around. It was empty. "Where are they?"

Briefly, Hermione stared down at her feet, before sighing. "I'm sure Harry wanted to talk to Ron alone, which means there's really only one place they could go. Here, I'll bring you to them. Follow me."

She trotted off down the hallway, and Sakura followed suspiciously. "Why would you betray your friends like this, by showing me where they are?"

Hermione looked taken back. "I'm not betraying them. They're not hiding from you, they're simply trying to keep other people from overhearing what is really none of their business. Honestly," she said sheepishly, "It's really none of ours, either. But we're all best mates, and really, Harry tells us everything." Here she paused, and sighed. "He probably really shouldn't, sometimes, especially with Ron's big mouth and astonishingly lack of forethought about what comes out of it. I'm taking you to them, because really, you have the right to ask us whatever you want, or even yell at us. They would both agree."

Hmph. Sakura opened her mouth to angrily ask _how_ they knew what Hermione felt so guilty about knowing, but looked around and thought better of it. The middle of the Hogwarts hallway was most certainly not the place for this conversation. Silently, she followed Hermione up staircases and through increasingly narrower hallways, until finally they arrived at a deserted, rather dusty looking corridor. Impatiently, she watched as Hermione walked up and down the corridor three times, her brow furrowed as though in deep concentration. Finally, she could wait no longer, and opened her mouth to angrily ask exactly _what_ the girl thought she was doing, was a door appeared in the wall. Gaping, Sakura could only stare as Hermione walked up to it and knocked three times. "Ron, Harry," she called. "It's me and Sakura. Let us in, please."

Footsteps could be heard thumping towards the door, and it was pulled open by an obviously disgruntled Harry. His face was red, as though he had been shouting, and his glasses were even more askew than normal. Behind him, Sakura could see Ron, slumped dejectedly on a cushioned chair. From the miserable set of his shoulders and his sudden fascination with his toes, it wasn't hard to tell that he had been chastised thoroughly.

Harry sighed. "Come in." He waved them inside, and Sakura entered a small cozy room, which looked like it had been built just for them. Four comfy-looking chairs were arranged in a circle, and a small coffee table was centered between them. A plate of chocolate-chip cookies rested on the table's top, and four mugs of hot chocolate steamed invitingly.

"We knew you were going to come," said Harry, gesturing towards the chairs and food. "Or at least, the room knew. We've been waiting." He looked towards Sakura with a small smile. "This is the room of requirement. It will turn into whatever you need it to be, or rather, whatever it thinks you need it to be." He tapped a half-empty hot chocolate mug on the table. There was only a muffled clack. "See? Plastic," he said a little sourly. "I figure that's in case we start throwing things. The room made sure nothing's breakable."

The three of them sat down in the cushy chairs. Ron still wasn't looking at her, or at any of them. Normally, Sakura might have felt a bit sorry for him, except that at the moment she was too angry at all three of them to feel anything else. Except terror, which was making its way to the surface in great big bursting bubbles. She clung desperately to her anger, aware that it was the only thing that prevented outright panic from taking control. Had it all been a lie? Was she going to find herself delivered straight back to _him_? She couldn't, wouldn't face that again. She'd kill herself first.

"What do you know?" she ground out between gritted teeth, glaring at Harry. After all, Ron said that he had learned about her torture from him.

Harry didn't look surprised, only remorseful. "I'm sorry, Sakura." He said. "It wasn't my place to tell my friends, or to even know in the first place."

"What…do…you…know?" she growled out slowly, barely able to keep herself from springing forward and forcing the answer out of him. If that proved necessary, however, she wouldn't hesitate, budding friendship or no. Her life was potentially on the line.

"I woke up shortly after they brought you into the infirmary. However, I feigned sleep, curious about what was going on." He looked embarrassed. "I know it was really none of my business, but well, I wanted to know what was going on. My eyes were shut, so I couldn't see anything, but I could hear them frantically rushing around, trying to heal you." He gave a sickly smile. "Honestly, I thought you were going to die. Madam Pomfrey sounded so panicked, and Snape was openly concerned. Which probably scared me more than all of Madam Pomfrey's yells and curses. I've never known that man to care a whit about what happened to a student, and much less sound _concerned_.

"Anyway, obviously you survived. Apparently Snape whipped up some amazing potion, which Madam Pomfrey had never even heard of, and spent ten minutes straight praising him for. With its help, they somehow managed to stabilize you. Which from what I could tell, was nothing short of a miracle. You, uh… had some really _nasty_ wounds." He swallowed thickly in memory.

"When they had finally managed to get the bleeding under control, and patched you up the best they could, they then did a general synopsis of all your injuries, big and small. Er…" he glanced over at Sakura anxiously, to see if she wanted him to go on.

"Do Ron and Hermione already know?"

He paled a little. "Yes. Well, most of it. I'm really, truly sorry about that. I'm just so used to sharing everything with them, and…"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Fine. Then continue, please." She needed to know what the teachers knew. Biting her lip anxiously, she realized her cover, slight as it was, had already been blown sky high before Dumbledore walked in the door. Innocent civilians weren't normally tortured for information. Dammit. _Dammit!_ What did they think of her? What were they planning to do to her? Forcefully, she calmed herself. This was not the time to worry about that. Now was the time to find out what the foreigners knew.

"Right." He adjusted his glasses nervously, and looked a little to her left, past her ear. "Uh… they said that, um, they said that… uh hem." He was having trouble getting past the opening words.

"They said that I had been tortured," said Sakura, rather more gently than he deserved, considering.

"Yes. They said all your injuries pointed to torture, probably over a period of days. Some of the signs were…um, that your fingernails had been pulled out. And there were burn marks all over your body, probably made with a hot iron, though with what type of implement, they couldn't guess. Uh, they said the most obvious sign, though, was that many of your bones had been broken repeatedly, only to be healed and broken again. This included bones in your ribs, arms, hands, feet, legs… well, basically everywhere. And that part of your ear had been cut off."

Whaatttt? Part of her _ear?_ Sakura's hands flew to her ears, and surely enough, the top of her left ear had been sliced clean off. Her hands began to shake, and she clasped them firmly together and stuffed them in her lap, to hide it. Oh yes. She had forgotten, or more likely had subconsciously blocked it out of her mind. _He_ had been in one of his possessive moods, whispering that she was his toy, to play with until he saw fit for her to die. Disfiguring her had been another way to stake his ownership, another way to remind her of the power he had over her. She shuddered in revulsion, remembering how he had lifted up the bleeding piece of flesh and popped it into his mouth. "Umm, crunchy," he had said, grinning sadistically.

"Uh, Sakura, are you okay?" Hermione's concerned voice broke through her remembered nightmare, thankfully snapping her back to the present.

Sakura realized she was sweating, and brought a shaky hand to her cheek. The skin her fingers met was cold and clammy. She must look a sight. "Well, go on," she said to Harry, her voice coming out in a croak. Coughing a bit to clear her throat, she tried again. It was hard to talk through the dryness in her mouth. Dammit. She was not going to let these memories get the best of her! "Anything else?"

Here Harry hesitated. "Uh, no," he said, his eyes darting around to glance at both of his friends. "That's it."

Instantly, Sakura knew he was lying. He knew something else. "What is it?" she demanded. "What are you not telling me?"

Harry coughed uneasily. "Er… nothing that you don't already know, I'm sure." He stared straight at Sakura, as though trying to convey to her, through sheer force of will, whatever it was he knew. Huh. For some reason, Harry didn't want to say it in front of his friends, which meant that he hadn't told them. What wouldn't he want them to know? Sakura felt the beginning of a headache. For some reason, recently her brain had been working at half its normal pace, and it was _frustrating_. She wanted to screw up her eyes like Naruto did when confused, and just yell, "What?! I don't get it. What?!"

However, she restrained herself, and tried to think about the situation logically. Harry may blabber to his friends secrets that really were none of their business, but he was, overall, a nice and well-meaning guy. If he didn't want to tell his friends something, he probably had a good reason, and she would be smart to take the hint.

"Alright Harry," she said wearily. "Thank you." He looked relieved, and a little surprised. "I can't really be angry with you, any of you," she added, including Hermione and Ron with a glance. "I would probably have eavesdropped myself, though as to whether I would have told my friends… well, I doubt it. But that comes from being a medic. The importance of patient confidentiality is trained into us from day one." Settling back into the cushy chair, she gave a small sigh. "Well, what's done is done. You know now, and it's not like I could erase your memories. Are you planning on telling anyone else?"

The trio looked shocked. "Of course not! We would never tell anyone your secrets!" cried Harry indignantly. She shot him a pointed look, and he had the grace to look embarrassed. "Alright," he mumbled, "We wouldn't tell anyone outside of the three of us."

Hermione spoke up. "We know how to keep secrets. Really." Sakura didn't miss the glance exchanged between the three, and wondered what else they were hiding. "But…" her voice grew hesitant, and Harry shot her a warning look. "I have to say it Harry!" she burst out, before turning to Sakura. "I understand that you want to keep what happened silent, but it's not like it's your fault you were tortured. I really, _really_ think you should tell Dumbledore what happened! If you're in trouble, he can help!"

"No!" Sakura sat up tensely in her chair, fingers digging into the arm rests. "No!" Seeing their startled faces, she consciously tried to relax. Weakly, she chuckled. "Haha. I mean, uh, I'm sure he knows anyway. Madam Pomfrey must have told him about my injuries. There's no reason for me to tell him again."

"That's not what I meant," Hermione said gently. "I think you should tell him who hurt you. And why. Professor Dumbledore has connections all over the world. I'm sure he could help put the ones who hurt you in jail. And maybe… well, wouldn't it be nice to talk about it with someone? To get the burden off your shoulders?"

Hermione gazed at her earnestly. The two boys were holding their breathe. All three of them were just so nice and well-intentioned… and completely wrong. If she told Dumbledore who she really was, it was more likely that _she_ would be thrown in jail. And the thought that Dumbledore could take on her captors… well, he may be a powerful wizard, but against a shinobi of _his_ caliber, it really was no contest. She couldn't say any of that to the trio, of course, and still maintain her cover. But she had the feeling that unless she told them _something_, they were going to keep pestering her to go talk to Dumbledore. Perhaps she could tell them a carefully, _very_ carefully edited version of events. And then maybe they would let the subject drop.

"Look," she said to them slowly. "I'm going to tell you a little about what happened to me, okay? And then maybe you'll understand why your Headmaster can't help." All three looked surprised and excited. Ron leaned forward until he almost fell off his seat. "I… well. Though my village isn't exactly at war at the moment, we have many powerful enemies. One of them kidnapped and tortured me, in the hopes of learning more about the warriors of my village. Though I'm afraid they didn't get much out of me."

Hermione gasped in horror and Ron sputtered indignantly. "Blimey, I would think not!" he exclaimed, sounding offended. "They must have been mad! What would a little girl like you know? That's, that's like You-Know-Who torturing some poor Hogwarts bloke to find out Dumbledore's plans! Madness, that's what!"

Sakura didn't bother to correct him. "Yes, well. My captor was definitely more than a little crazy," she admitted, feeling cold at the memory. "Anyway, my people have fought this enemy for years. He is not some petty criminal that your Dumbledore can simply report to the authorities and get locked up. So I don't see how talking to Dumbledore would help."

Hermione looked confused. "But why didn't you just tell the Headmaster all this in the first place?"

Right. Good question. "There was no reason to tell him. It's a matter solely between my village and our enemy," she hedged. "And I… did not want to talk about what happened," she added truthfully. "It brings back bad memories."

"Oh, I see. Sorry," said Hermione, sounding abashed.

Harry jumped in. "Sakura, we don't mean to press you. And can understand if you don't want to talk about it. But we wanted to tell you that," he looked around, and his two friends nodded in confirmation, "we are here to help you, and listen, if you want. And if it's that important to you that we don't tell anyone your secrets, well…" he took a deep breathe. "I'm willing to make the unbreakable vow."

"Oh Harry!" gasped Hermione. "The _unbreakable_ vow?" Next to her, Ron gawked at Harry.

"Blimey, mate!" he breathed in awe. "You're crazy!"

Sakura stared at the trio, confused. "What's that? The unbreakable vow?"

"It's a wizarding promise," explained Ron. "If you break it… you _die_." He drew out the last word with a sort of horrified reverence.

But now Hermione was nodding. "Yes," she said once softly, and then again more decisively. "Yes! I would take the unbreakable vow not to reveal whatever you told us."

Ron openly gaped at both of them. "Bloody hell! You're all barking! Well," he drew himself up, "if that's what you two've decided, I reckon I'll just have to go along with it. Alright." He grinned at Sakura. "I'll do it too!"

She felt stunned. Their offer seemed to have knocked all the words out of her brain. Finally pulling her wits together, she managed to stutter out, "I, uh… thanks. I'll keep that in mind." That seemed to be all the response they needed, for immediately they started chattering away, asking questions and telling stories to each other about the vow. Sakura couldn't make herself pay any attention. All she could think about, for the rest of the meeting and the night thereafter, was their outstanding offer. And the thought that here, so far from her home, she might have found… friends.


End file.
